


History

by MidwesternDuchess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Kwami Chat, pre-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6540193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidwesternDuchess/pseuds/MidwesternDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Boldness is a mask for fear, however great." -John Dryden</p><p> </p><p>  <i>(Plagg confronts Tikki about Ladybug and Chat Noir's identities. History rears its ugly head.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	History

_"Because,"_ Adrien declares in a voice that he's dimly aware is far too grand and ostentatious for the oh-so-glamorous setting of his bedroom. "I _love_ her."

Plagg gives a small shrug of his shoulders, whiskers bobbing with the movement. "I love cheese."

Adrien's expression drops into an unhappy frown and Plagg just cackles merrily at his charge's disfavor.

"You're hilarious, Plagg. Really," the blond Parisian remarks, a snap to his voice that holds no heat. "Why do we even waste our time fighting crime? Our true calling is _clearly_ comedy."

His kwami grins wider, grabbing hold of his feet as he floats lazily over his ward's head. "Hey, _you're_ the one professing your love for some girl you don't even know," he points out.

Adrien just sighs, flopping down onto his bed. "But I _feel_ like I know her," he insists. He rolls over, eyeing Plagg out of the corner of his eye. "Does that sound crazy?"

"Yes," Plagg answers immediately. "But, to be fair, so does most stuff you say."

Chat Noir's alter ego just buries his face in his pillows with a groan.

"Not helpful," he complains, voice slightly muffled.

Plagg shrugs, unrepentant. "Being helpful comes second to keeping you alive, kid. And that's a full-time job."

More groans. Plagg grins craftily, entirely too pleased with himself.

"Want my advice?" the kwami asks. Adrien opens his mouth—doubtlessly to tell Plagg precisely where he could shove his advice—but the spirit of Chat Noir continues on without missing a beat. "Let it go. Relationships are messy and complicated, and she's made it clear her identity is nobody's business but her own."

Adrien visibly deflates, looking away and at least having the decency to look a _little_ ashamed.

"I know," the boy admits.

Plagg cocks a disbelieving eyebrow. "Really? Because you're talking about it a _lot_ for someone who apparently _knows."_

"I just—" Adrien breaks off with a frustrated huff, snapping his mouth shut as he scowls down at his comforter, clearly trying to order his thoughts. Plagg can't hide a smirk. For all of Adrien's faults—and he has a _few—_ there isn't a person in Paris who can match his ward's passion. When he really gets rolling on a topic, there's absolutely no stopping him. Plagg senses one such rant is incoming, and he watches—half-amused, half-wary—as Adrien works to change his _feelings_ into coherent _words._

"I'm not trying to be pushy," he begins. "I just…I don't know. We work so well together. And she _seems_ to like me well enough. We make a great team, and seem to really understand each other." Plagg does not like where this is going. "But, I can't help but…I mean what if…" He flounders ungracefully, gesturing uselessly with his hands.

Plagg watches him, eyebrows raised as he waits for Adrien to spit it out. He always does, given enough time. With another inelegant huff, he drops his hands in his lap, looking up at his kwami helplessly.

"What if she doesn't trust me?"

Oh, Plagg could absolutely die.

Well, not exactly. Being a kawmi grants him all sorts of neat perks—immortality being a pretty big selling point—but the look of complete _despair_ on Adrien's voice makes Plagg wish he could fling himself off of the top of Agreste Manor.

"Adrien," Plagg begins hesitantly. "I don't think that's it, kid." He's been dealing with the problems and insecurities of boys like Adrien for eons. That doesn't mean he's good at it, though.

Adrien just stares up at him, and Plagg sighs, giving his tail a flick. "Look, Ladybug trusts you, okay? Let's just start there. It's an implicit thing. She can't _not_ trust you." He crosses his arms. "And for what it's worth, I think she respects you. I mean, I've been there for every horrible pun you've used. Kinda gives me insight. Besides, she just seems like that type of girl."

Tikki's Ladybugs are always creatures to behold. Brave and daring and intelligent and tenacious and reliable. He supposes that's one of the upsides to being the lucky kwami, but he wouldn't trade his end of the deal for anything.

Besides, his cats are _nothing_ to scoff at.

Adrien's confused expression draws Plagg out of his reminiscing.

"You know who she is?" he asks, tilting his head.

Plagg shrugs carelessly. "Not exactly," he explains, eyeing his charge warily and wondering if this is a conversation he should really be having. As stated, Adrien is certainly the most… _spirited_ ward he's had in a few centuries. "I could find out, if I really wanted to."

Adrien's face lights up like the _sun_ and Plagg would have taken his words over the finest Camembert if it meant he could eat them.

"But I don't, so it doesn't matter," Plagg hastens to add.

"But if you _did—"_

"I _don't."_ Plagg's voice is a harsh snap as he scowls at Adrien. "I'm only supposed to contact Tikki if it's _absolutely essential."_

Adrien blinks in confusion. "Tikki?" he repeats, puzzled. "Who's Tikki?"

But Plagg only offers his ward a chilly stare, and Adrien knows he's overstepped himself.

Not to be deterred, he props himself up on his elbows, staring up at his kwami.

"What if I guess?" he suggests.

"What if we drop the subject and forget it ever happened?" Plagg retorts. Tikki's gonna have at least _one_ of his nine lives for this. He frowns down at Adrien's bright, hopeful face moodily. He doubts the ladybug kwami has to put up with this kind of nonsense. She always picks such level-headed charges.

Though in his defense, Adrien hadn't revealed most of his bizarre goofiness until well into their partnership—but those quirks had only made Plagg like the boy more.

He always did have a soft spot for strays. And despite his ostentatious wealth, cheerful attitude, and obvious popularity, Adrien Agreste is absolutely a stray.

Adrien's expression drops at Plagg's denial.

 _"Please_ Plagg?" he tries.

Plagg squirms uncomfortably under his charge's plea. Adrien doesn't beg for a lot. Occasionally, he'll ask to transform for no reason other than to trapeze around Paris' rooftops when he needs to clear his head, but Plagg is always warmly rewarded for such indulgences.

He's never slacked off in his duties as Chat Noir, he's always gotten the job done, and despite the fact that this world has chewed him up and spit him back out too many times for a kid so young, the boy has retained a positive outlook on most everything. Plagg pretends to be annoyed with his endlessly sunny attitude, but secretly he's pleased at his charge's resilience.

A hopeless romantic who's never gotten the love he deserves. Plagg shuts his eyes with a groan.

"I _can't,_ kid," he spits out through his teeth. "Honestly. It's not my choice."

Adrien sighs, flopping back on his bed, staring up at his ceiling. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that." Plagg bristles, expecting an attitude, but Adrien just sounds…defeated.

"Love isn't really the point, you know," the cat kwami murmurs. "It's just a word. Using it doesn't grant special powers to your relationship."

Adrien doesn't reply. Plagg doesn't blame him.

Instead, he sighs heavily, waiting for Adrien to fall asleep, already knowing he's going to regret this.

_Damn strays._

-0-

It's not very hard to find her.

Plagg just absentmindedly floats along, following the strange tugging sensation he feels that draws him across the rooftops of Paris. He tries not to pay attention to his surroundings. Adrien has a nasty habit of getting him to say things he shouldn't. _Clearly._

The last thing he needs is to blurt out the address of Ladybug's home.

Luckily, he finds her on the roof of a bakery. He spies the girl first, curled up and sleeping soundly in a chair, an open book in her lap and a quilt warding off the evening chill. Tikki's made a home for herself on the girl's shoulder, and seems perfectly content.

He watches the pair, smirking slightly at the warmth of such a display, before he touches down on the banister that rings the rooftop and clears his throat loudly.

The ladybug kwami rockets into the air, looking around wildly. She casts a quick glance at the slumbering girl, and then a trapdoor on the floor, before looking up to spy Plagg waving merrily at her from his spot across the roof.

Tikki blinks at him, and Plagg watches with amusement as her expression changes from surprise, to confusion, to panic.

"Plagg!" She soars up to where he's perched himself neatly on the banister, like this is a perfectly normal place for him to be. "What's wrong?" her voice is just as light and musical as he remembers, and her words positively _leak_ concern. "Is it the boy? Is he okay?" She pulls back, gaze nervously flitting about him. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm _fine,"_ he pours annoyance into his words, preforming an over-the-top eye roll as he leans away from the ladybug kawmi. "Keep it down, Tikki. You're gonna wake the kid."

He nods pointedly to girl who lays asleep in the chair, cuddled up in a thick quilt. Her face is hidden due to their contrasting angles, and Plagg just lets his gaze skirt over her dark hair—shining in the Parisian moonlight—before looking back to Tikki.

"Then what's wrong?" she asks, wringing her hands as she floats before him. He studies her, dully entertained at her contrasting emotions.

On one hand, she's delighted to see her partner again. On the other hand, she made it _very_ clear that for the sake of not mixing their own partnership with their ward's partnership, she and him would go about this separately, dedicating all their time to those in their care.

 _"A kwamis first duty is to their charge,"_ she told him when they'd first arrived in Paris. Plagg could only nod in agreement.

So while Tikki is happy to see the spirit of Chat Noir, she's absolutely expecting a damn good reason for seeing him.

Plagg swallows, looking away. Pity he doesn't exactly have one of those.

His gaze wanders back to the girl, still sleeping in her chair. Plagg wonders briefly what kind of girl she is—capable and confident enough to save Paris on a regular basis and capture the heart of one black cat. He wonders is she even _knows._

He blinks when Tikki moves to interrupt his line of sight, frowning slightly as she blocks his gaze, shielding her ward.

"What are you doing here, Plagg?" she asks, suspicion darkening her voice.

He flashes a toothy grin. "Can't I just swing by and say hello?"

She answers him with a flat look, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Talk, Plagg," she orders.

The cat kwami sighs, dropping the act. _Here we go._

"It's…the kid," he has to mind himself from saying _Adrien_. Tikki frowns in concern, but he waves her off. "He's getting…restless."

Tikki stares at him, lifting an eyebrow for him to continue. Plagg grits his teeth. _Adrien, you don't even **know** how much cheese you owe me for this one._ "About what?" she prompts.

"About identities," he blurts out. He nods to the sleeping girl. "Hers, specifically."

For one moment, nothing happens. Tikki just stares at him, and he stares back at her, swallowing hard.

Then the ladybug kwami is glaring at him with a look so sharp, it undoubtedly claimed one of his nine lives.

"No." Tikki's voice brooks no argument. "Plagg, _no."_ She huffs, crossing her arms and scowling. Plagg idly flicks his tail, waiting for her to go on and pretending like her scathing look isn't directed at him.

"Do you remember the 20s, Plagg?" she hisses. "Hm? New York City? I picked a darling little flapper named Irene and _you_ picked a bootlegger named Thomas?"

He does remember. _Vividly._ The 20s had been a good time. Until they hadn't been.

"I think I remember," he drawls, scratching lazily at his ear. "Thomas always got me good cheese."

She scowls at his attitude. "Do you remember when Thomas told Irene _everything?_ Remember when he _ruined_ it because he couldn't keep it to _himself?"_

"Curiosity killed the cat," Plagg remarks darkly, glaring at the ground.

 _"And_ the ladybug," Tikki reminds him harshly. As if he could forget.

"Satisfaction brought it back." Plagg finishes the little adage for no reason other than to be petulant. He looks up to meet Tikki's angry stare.

"Not that time it didn't," she whispers.

They stare at each other, unsmiling. Plagg hates talking about the 20s. That had been one of their worst runs. Tikki's still got a protective streak a mile long, leftover from the disaster.

"It's not _my_ fault my cats always fall in love with your ladies," Plagg defends himself. He looks askance at the sleeping girl. "And I'm not so sure your darling little Ladybug is completely innocent."

Tikki scowls. "Do not bring her into this," she warns. "Mar—" she catches herself from using the girl's name, gritting her teeth. _"Ladybug_ has a perfect record. She's done nothing wrong."

"Neither has Chat," Plagg insists.

 _"Yet,"_ Tikki stresses.

Plagg scoffs, ears flattening with annoyance. "Please. Neither of our charges are perfect, Tikki. _We're_ not perfect, in case you haven't been paying attention for the past few _decades."_

"It's not about us," Tikki reminds him coolly. "And I _have_ been paying attention. That's how I know that letting _them—"_ she gestures back at the sleeping Ladybug "—meet is a _horrible_ idea."

Plagg rolls his eyes. "And you know everything, I suppose." His sarcasm bites with a vengeance, and Tikki's eyes narrow.

"History repeats itself," she flings at him.

"Not every time, Tikki, not _exactly,"_ Plagg argues. "Every kid I've given the Cat Miraculous to has been different. You can't hold something he _might_ do against him."

Tikki frowns, but he sees most of her anger has faded, leaving worry behind. She casts a backwards glance at the girl, who has slept peacefully throughout their argument.

"I just want her to succeed," the ladybug kwami whispers. "At everything. I never want Ladybug to become her identity. I want it to be _something_ she is, not _who_ she is."

"You don't want to be a burden," Plagg states plainly. He knows how she feels. Overtaking the Miraculous holder's life is a constant concern for kwami. They walk a delicate line between overbearing and negligent. Tikki always leans towards the former, Plagg towards the latter.

Sometimes, it works out.

The 20s had not been one of those times.

Plagg blows out a breath, itching to get back to Adrien. If anyone could get into life-threatening trouble in the hour he'd left him unattended, it would be that blond, pun-spouting model.

"Plagg…" Tikki frowns after him. He knows she hates leaving things unfinished.

"See you around," Plagg calls back, giving her a little salute before floating off the banister. _"Bien joué."_

Tikki chuckles under her breath, shaking her head. "Silly cat," she remarks quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> So….here’s a thing.
> 
> I know Plagg is a lot more unreliable and careless than I make him out to be, but I think that’s just played for laughs in the show. Realistically (she says about the show where teenagers transform into fucking superheroes) Plagg can’t drop the ball as much as he does in the show. There’s no way any of his cats would have survived if he was actually that much of a fuck all of the time.
> 
> That’s my interpretation, anyway. Take it for what you will.
> 
> My next piece will probably be Ladybug/Adrien. Whatever the ship name for that is. Ladrien? I’ll google it.


End file.
